On Bat Patrol, May 2007

The bumps one hears thoughout the day and night reflects the wind bending shrubs and tree branches against the cottage. These noises sound loud against the otherwise silence of this world. I am keenly listening for the sounds of bats who may have returned from their wintering further north. Bats return to the exact same roost year after year after year. Tired of the bat droppings on our mantel and the diseases that come with that "guana" (Histoplasmosis from the organism Histoplasma capsulatum), I hired a "bat control company" who came last year and sealed every nook and cranny that the bats might concievabley wiggle through to get back to their roost. The bat control person, came with his sidekick, he wearing a blue baseball cap with a red boardered brown bat centerd logo in front. They diligently went about caulking every orfic they could find. I have returned to the cottage for the first time this year to listen for the squeeks of the bats and the telltale droppings on the mantle. I have been here two nights; so far, no squeeks. I am encouraged that we will not have a repeat of last year, when Leah and Chris were awakened by Shag's standing on the fold out couch, head raised high and barking. 24 bats chose to exit from their lair located above the great room paneling via the space between the paneling and fireplace. The outside metal chimney left by the bat control man for the bats' exist was not used, rather an internal escape; hence, the barking Shag, and the late evening swirl of winged rodents circling in a clockwise fashion, squeeking and fluttering as they encountered walls and windows, and other objects (us). Although we had opened the front door and screen, their sonar system could not locate the opening since their flight took them past the doorway. We got into their flight plane and managed to change their direction to a counter clockwise circle, and once they could "see" the exist, they were off and out. The next night, there were four bats who had emerged from the cracks between the paneling and fireplace, again we were alerted by Shag, again we opened the door and out they flew. The following night, there were two bats, and subsequently, there were none. I am here at the cottage, to be sure we do not have a repeat performance of the "bat ballet." I can not be absolutely sure however, since Shag is not here to alert me to the bat's presence. I do miss her in more ways than that though. Walking the shores and roads and trails, I miss her.